


Why Do The Good Die Young?

by chiefenjolras



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiefenjolras/pseuds/chiefenjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Washington has seen a lot of shit and suffered a lot of losses in his life. One more loss does not make it any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Do The Good Die Young?

To Agent Washington it was always amazing on how strong emotions work. At the moment they can be the best, or worst things to happen. They can make a person feel as if the world is at their fingertips, or they can make a person feel as if you just swallowed the hot core at the center. No matter what the outcome is, one can never recall that happiness or pain until the moment it happens again. For Washington, it always seemed to be pain that reoccurred, and the worst of it had happened to him four times.

  
Agent Washington had seen a lot of shit in his lifetime. The first time, he had lived with a tortured AI in his mind, which had flayed nearly every inch of his sanity away. The second time, he had watched Project Freelancer turn to dust as all of his friends tore each other apart and died. The third time involved a Mercenary that had saved his life three times had betrayed him and nearly killed many of his teammates and started a civil war. Yet nothing, nothing seemed to be as hard as the fourth time, when watching the equivalent of a child die on his watch.

  
The former Freelancer didn’t know where they came from. One second Sarge and he were doing their daily rounds the next thing he knows there is a gun clinking against the back of his helmet and Sarge is being thrown to the ground, a boot materializing on top of his head and a familiar grey and green armor along with it, and a shotgun in the center of his back.

  
“What in Sam hell is going on?” Sarge barked, his hands scrambling to try and push himself up. The boot only pressed the red captain’s helmet down again. Sarge turned his head to look up at his enemy, letting out a string of curses, damning the Blues and their mothers, and reached for his gun. The man reached down and plucked it from the red leaders fingertips and tossed it to whomever stood behind Wash.

  
“Don’t move, or I will blow you apart.” The voice coming from the grey and green armor is void of all emotion and a shiver of disgust ran down Washington’s spine.  
“Locus, and…” The gun clicked against the back of his helmet again and he can feel the smirk behind him, “Felix.”

  
“Heya there, Wash. It great to see you again.” The gun trailed along his helmet until he could see the cocky mercenary in his vision, “Did you miss me?”

  
“Hey, you’re tha’ mercenary fella! Why don’t you take your damned foot off my helmet and we can duke this out like real men!” Sarge growls. The boot moves from his head to the small of his back and the shotgun moves up to the reds helmet.

  
“Be quiet or you’ll get that hole in your head instead of your back.”

  
“Listen to him, Sarge, I doubt they’ll play nice this time.” Washington warned. Felix only laughed, “We always play nice, and it’s you and your little red and blues that are playing dirty.”

  
“We Reds don’t play dirty!”

  
“Sarge! Shut it!”

  
Washington sighed heavily, the air in his helmet feeling heavier than normal. As if on command Church materialized in front of his eyes, but still behind the visor.  
“Don’t worry,” the AI mentioned, “Keep them busy and don’t get shot, I’ve got this under control.” Then he disappeared again.

  
All right then, all he had to do was keep Locus and Felix busy without dying and getting anybody else killed. Easy enough.

  
Washington looked to the mercenary and slowly put his hands up. “Take it easy, Felix. What are you here for? We kicked your ass once, what makes you think we can’t do it again?”

  
Felix circled around Washington again, not once pointing the gun away from him. It was like watching a shark. All he had to do was punch it in the nose.  
“We’ve planned, and right now—“

  
“Felix, shut it.” Locus growled.

  
“Oh, chill out, like they can do anything now. We’ve learned. Anyways, there is a diversion going on at the other end of the camp and trust me, it’s thorough enough to keep them at bay, while we take you out.”

  
“You think a diversion will keep them for long? They’re not stupid.”

  
“Another minute.” Church whispered in his ear.

  
Felix raised the gun, clinking it against his own helmet briefly before returning it to Washington. “If Tucker hadn’t have gotten lucky with that ridiculous AI, you and all of your friends would have been dead by now. Now the truth is out and we have nothing else and can be just as ruthless as ever.”

  
Sarge stubbornly squirmed under Locus, “You talk a lot for a feller who is about to get his ass kicked by a Red!”

  
“Oh shut up! You Red are just a fucking waste of space, and everyone knows it.”

  
That was when Washington heard it. The damned sound, which normally drove him away, sounded like the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. It was that polka music.

  
The Warthog came ramping through the wall, Simmons on the gun, Grif driving, and Tucker and Caboose on the back.

  
“You can’t talk to Sarge like that!” Simmons wailed, the gun thrumming off steady bullets into the ground, dangerously close to the red team leader. Sarge took that as his cue to push himself up as Locus had momentarily lost attention. He scrambled out of the way of the oncoming vehicle and everyone else on the Warthog bailed as it slammed into Locus, tossing him back.

  
“Reds! After him!” Sarge barked, and Grif and Simmons bolted after the apathetic mercenary and the runaway Warthog with their leader. That left Washington and the blues with Felix. When the Warthog had plowed into Locus, Washington spun around and knocked the gun out of Felix’s hand. He sunk into fighting stance as Felix did the same.

  
Church materialized outside of Wash’s helmet, glancing over at Felix, “They’re here.”

  
“Thanks, Church. Stay tucked away for now, and let me take care of this.”

  
“If you say so.” He vanished.

  
“Agent Washington! We’re here to help!” Caboose yelled, running behind Tucker. “Freckles is here to help too!” He waved the sentient gun in the air and Tucker yelled at him to shut up and put the gun away before he shot somebody.

  
“Give it up, Felix. You’re outnumbered this time. Just slither back into whatever hole you came out of, otherwise you’re going to die.” Washington warned.

  
Felix shrugged and looked behind Wash, to Caboose and Tucker. He sighed visibly, straightening up from his stance. “It’s a bummer to see you still kicking, Tucker. Thought you were a goner. Goddamn you guys always refused to stay down.”

  
“Shut up, you traitorous dick.” Tucker swore, raising his sword to Felix.

  
Felix clicked his tongue and raised his hands above his head, as Wash had done merely minutes ago. “Alright, you got me, I surrender.”

  
From behind Washington Freckles robotic voice spoke up.

  
“HEAT SIGNATURES DETECTED.”

  
Felix laughed and all hell broke lose.

  
Three other mercenaries uncloaked behind Tucker and Caboose, grappling them in a chokehold and pressing guns against their helmets and removing their weapons.

  
“Tucker. Tucker!” Caboose whispered fiercely. “There. Are. Invisible. People. Behind. Us.”

  
“Yeah, I got that, Caboose. Thanks.” Tucker replied, struggling against the chokehold.

  
Washington fired his gun at Felix who lazily raised his arm and extended out his shield, the bullets easily deflected. As soon as the shield was lowered Washington tossed a bomb and when it came in contact with the shield it burst into thick smoke.

  
“Freckles! Shake!” Tucker yelled and Caboose’s gun discharged into the chest of the mercenary holding it. Smoke quickly filled the area and Wash lost sight of Tucker and Caboose although he could hear the struggle ensuing. Washington drew his knife out and waded through the smoke.  
“Come on, Felix. We can’t play cat and mouse all day long.”

  
“Hah, I’ve been playing cat and mouse my entire life.” A voice drifted out from behind him and Washington crouched as a knife swept the air where his head had just been. He charged forward, catching Felix in the gut and tossing him backward through the dissipating smoke. It was easier to see where he went this time so Washington ran forward as Felix picked himself up and raised his knife. The knife swung down and Washington parried it. Felix swung his other fist attempting knock the ex-freelancer off balance but Washington broke apart and jumped back.

  
By now the smoke had lifted almost completely and Wash could see Tucker fighting off the last remaining mercenary. This time Felix charged and when the two swung their knives, Wash’s knife ended up sunk into the shoulder padding between two chunks of armor. Felix swore, yet as they stood there, locked together, Wash could see the grin through the visor, and wondered why it was there.

  
Felix sheathed his own knife and grabbed Wash’s hand, slowly pulling the knife from his shoulder. “Thanks, Wash.” His alternate hand, in a fist lightly thumped sideways against Washington’s chest armor. “I’ll be seeing you again. Tata.” The shield extended.

  
It caught directly under Wash’s chin, lifting him up off the ground and throwing him backwards as Felix gave it a good jerk. Wash crumpled to the ground, knocked out of breath.

  
“Church,” He coughed out, “Help.” The AI materialized again.

  
“I can’t help you unless you get up. Get up!”

  
Wash nodded, coughing hard once again, but managing to pull himself up.

  
The mercenary had gained an advantage over Tucker, leaving him preoccupied, whilst leaving Caboose in the open and Felix was headed right toward him.

  
“Freckles, shake!” Caboose yelled, but the gun did nothing.

  
“I am sorry, Captain Caboose, but I am out of ammo. “

  
“Freckles, now is not the time to play dead!”

  
“I am sorry, Captain Caboose, but I am out of ammo. “

  
“Caboose, run!” Wash roared. “Church, you have to help me. I have to get so him before Felix.”

  
“Hold on.”

  
For the AI the world seemed to slow down and almost stop. It could see and calculate everything in the area. So, it did what it knew best, it observed, calculated, and made Wash react. Yet, out of everything it imputed into the suit, the only thing it did not mention was the success rate.

  
For time that seemed to span into hours for the AI was less than a second for Wash and he barely had time to blink before he was forced into action again. He rolled to the side, sweeping up one of the discarded guns, aimed and fired. Whatever Gods Washington didn’t believe in, never failed to prove him right on that day, because the shot missed.

  
The mercenary slammed Tucker to the ground and delivered a heavy kick to his helmet, before meeting Felix’s gaze and heading toward the lone Blue with the empty gun.

  
“Agent Washinton!” Caboose called out, like any other normal day, “Agent Washi—“ The word were cut off as Felix slid the knife into Caboose’s abdomen and patted him on the head.

“Good little blue soldier.” He twisted the knife and looked past Caboose’s head to the unnamed mercenary standing behind him, nodding curtly.

The mercenary raised his gun, and fired it into the back of the blue helmet as Felix removed the knife and sidestepped the falling body.

  
“Caboose!” Washington tossed the gun aside and scrambled forward. Voices thundered in his ears, screeching within the helmet and within the cacophony he could hear Church howling. Wash tore his helmet off, throwing it aside.

  
Locus uncloaked beside Felix and the remaining mercenary and held out a teleportation cube. In a flash of orange they were gone.

  
Washington could have cared less. He kneeled down beside Caboose’s body and pulled the blue soldier into his lap.

  
“Oh God, why does this keep happening? Hey, Caboose. Hey, buddy, come on.”

  
“Captain Caboose, your vitals are low.” Freckles robotic voice barely reached Washington.

  
Caboose stirred slightly and Washington gently removed the shattered helmet.

  
The stab wound wouldn’t be too bad, Tucker had recovered from the way same thing but…

  
Washington could feel the bleeding ruins, which was Caboose’s skull against his hands. He was just glad Caboose’s long tangled black hair covered most of it, but he couldn’t escape the slightly glazed, soft brown eyes and the blood oozing down his face.

  
“Agent Washingtub, I think I have a headache.” He lifted a hand up to his head and then drew it back, gazing at the red.

  
“Yeah? Don’t worry, kid, we’ll take care of that.” He smiled but couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. “We’ll take you back and you’ll feel much better.”

  
“Agent Washingtub?”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Why are you crying?”

  
“You were so brave back there, that’s all. I just wish I could be as brave as you.”

  
Church materialized beside Washington.

  
“Hi Church! Church, why am I turning red? I’m on the Blue Team I can’t change teams now. You’re my best friend so we can’t be on different teams.” He put his hand back down, and looked up to Wash and Church.

  
“You’ll always be on the Blue Team, Caboose.”

  
Caboose coughed and blood frothed from his lips.

  
“Church, what’s happening? My body is numb.”

  
Church’s visual flickered and for a moment Washington could see the other AI filter through.

  
“You’re just going to take a nap, buddy. Like a car ride and when you wake up you’ll be home, and you and I can hang out all of the time.”

  
“Oh boy, I can’t wait to play with you, Church.”

  
“Me too, buddy. Me too. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Okay. Bye, Church.”

  
“Bye, Caboose.”

  
Church vanished but Wash could still feel the pain emanating from him like a phantom.

  
Washington wiped his eyes and Caboose patted his leg.

  
“Don’t cry, Agent Washingtub. tucker says crying is for babies and I hate babies.”

  
Wash couldn’t help but laugh. “You cry all the time Caboose, shut up.”

  
“That is different.” He smiled, a big childish grin, “Agent Washingtub, can I have a hug?”

  
Wash didn’t respond but simply pulled Caboose up and wrapped his arms around.

  
Caboose gripped the armor on Washington’s back, making a content noise.

  
Washington didn’t let go, even when Caboose began to spasm and twitch and finally went limp.

  
He didn’t let go when Tucker came to and started pummeling him. Only when the Reds came back and separated Tucker from him, did he let go.

They buried Caboose’s body out on the hill, outside of the camp. A small wooden cross marked the grave and his shattered helmet laid atop of the freshly laid soil.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked this. It's just something I thought about and figured it would be fun (and painful) to write.


End file.
